Running Back
by Barrel of Monkeys
Summary: Vernon needs to learn to whisper quieter. Harry overhears something interesting and now he's on mission to find someone.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

**Warnings: **OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

**A/N**: I was talking to Sky's Eternity one night when we were discussing the possibility of this crossover. I came up with an idea and we both described where we would take it, and well both were different, so I said "Let's write them!" So Sky's Eternity and I are starting with the same basic prompt and working from there. I think it will be fun to see where we each take it and compare.

**Running Back**

**The First Tackle**

Vernon Dursley was a business man through and through. He had a very ordered work life that he enjoyed through his sturdy black briefcase, a nice normal wife who stayed at home, and a son he was very proud of. Today he was wearing his basic grey flannel suit, a white collared shirt, and because today felt a little bit better than others, he wore a mustard yellow tie to mix things up. Oh yes, he had chortled to himself for a good minute when he decided to wear this particular colour. His yellow tie would probably be the talk of the office today. The office staff might even think he has a playful side. Vernon frowned. Maybe he should change his tie? It wouldn't be good if his employee's thought that he was too playful and didn't work as hard as they should. No, no. He had already decided on the colour and it was a very befitting colour for the day. He would just need to be a little extra firm with them today if they tried to get away with anything.

Vernon sat down for breakfast, and immediately picked up the paper that was on his right hand side of his plate. The boy had been taught to always place his morning paper on his dominate side; it was only proper after all. He unfolded it, and held it up so he could read the local news, and with a brief glance to ensure nothing funny or wrong was happening in his area, Vernon flipped to the business section. He checked the stocks and read the articles that were related in some way to Grunnings. While he read he sipped his tea and ate his food with one hand.

Everything seemed to be in order and nothing showed it could result in a decline in Grunnings sales. As a director, Vernon was very proud of his job and always strived to show that he deserved his position, in case any little upstart tried to steal it from him. It was also why he never tried to steal funds from the company, and was very thorough with all the ledgers. Nothing –and he meant nothing- would interfere with the position he had gained. That is why he checked the business section every day, had his secretary place anything important on his desk with a yellow post-it note, and he was meticulous about the time he took off for vacation and sick days.

When Petunia stood to trot around the table and put more bacon on his plate, Vernon flipped to the Sports section, reading the headline. "Chelsea is still hanging in there I see. That's good; it means old man Grunnings will be in a good mood." Vernon announced to his family, his mustache quirking up on one side to show his pleasure. With this, Vernon could engage the company owner into a pleasant bit of small talk and hopefully worm his way closer to a pay raise. Wearing a yellow tie had been a good choice today.

Vernon snorted when he turned the page to see an article in the international sports section about an American football team. This school, Notre Dame, are apparently very proud of their star player, an Eyeshield 21.

"Look at this complete rubbish -bragging about a boy who can run fast in an abominable sport. Why the Americans needed to name their sport football is beyond me. Can you believe they renamed footy to soccer of there? No proper respect!" Vernon huffed and gruffed.

"Truly terrible." Petunia piped up. Her first contribution to conversation all morning besides 'Would you like more toast?' and 'Boy hurry up!'.

"It looks like they even took some candid shots of the boys to make it appear like they're average kids despite their success, and trying to make it sound like a team effort when it's one kid running. Even the boy can run fast, maybe you could be Eyeshield 21." Vernon joked. He laughed at his own joke, like the boy could ever have anything to do with Eyeshield 21 or anyone successful.

Vernon ruffled his paper, straightening it out a bit more, and looked over the pictures. The boys were all tall and fit, obviously horsing around after practice. There were captions, telling the names of some key players, not like Vernon particularly cared to know. But the one picture, bigger than the rest, but smaller than the main portrait of a boy in a helmet and eye shield, caught his attention. The boys were laughing, throwing sweat bands at each other, but one boy was in the back and looking off to the side, his hair was familiar, his face structure was a mix of English and Asian… and if Vernon was a man that gambled, he would bet the boy's eyes were either green or hazel.

"Pet, this boy…" Vernon beckoned his wife over. Petunia was quick to canter over, looking over his large shoulder to see what he was referring to. "Does he…"

Petunia dramatically gasped and held a single skinny pale hand up to her mouth. "Vernon… it's him." She whispered harshly, he eyes darting over to the boy. Harry, for his part, ignored them as he gathering the breakfast dishes.

Vernon waited until the boy was in the kitchen before speaking, his whispers louder than he thought and carrying over to the boy. "Maybe we should have kept him instead of listening to that barmy old man. At least he seems normal and he has talents in sports. Why that crazed old man insisted we keep the younger brother is beyond me. He's nothing but trouble."

"Oh Vernon, you read the letter. I'm surprised the boy hasn't met him at the blasted school but maybe this is why…Let's not speak of this anymore." Petunia suggested, her eyes looking at the windows in case one of the neighbours had camped outside them, listening in for any juicy bits of gossip.

Vernon listened to his wife, she was the more experienced of the pair in these abnormal matters. He folded the paper and placed it down on his left side, now finished with it. He cleaned his plate of any remaining food and stood. Planting a chaste kiss on his wife's cheek, a firm pat on his son's shoulder, Vernon turned and left the dining area. He smoothed down his yellow tie and gave it a fond little pat, and buttoned the top button of his jacket. Ready to leave, Vernon picked up his sturdy black briefcase, and left the house, thinking about Mr. Grunnings and Chelsea.

He left not knowing that the day felt different because he planted an idea, a hope, and a dream into the mind of the boy he ignored.

* * *

I know what you may be thinking... 'Another new story Monkeys? Really?'

I'm sorry! I promise that this will be the last new one until I finish a WIP. Promise. On my pure Canadian Heart.

So, tell me what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

**Warnings: **OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

**The Second Tackle**

Harry wasn't deaf, blind, or dumb like his relatives no doubt prayed for. He had heard Vernon and Petunia's conversation, he had seen a brief glance of the picture, and he had understood what they were saying. He had a brother. He had an older brother. He had an older brother that they had gotten rid of. Once Vernon was gone and Petunia was driving Dudley over to Piers house, Harry had pounced on the paper and flipped it open to the picture.

He easily pinpointed the boy Vernon was talking about. He was in the back, but something about his presence stood out. It was like a beacon to Harry. He had matching messy hair, a slim nose, and slightly Asian features that showed in the eyes, like Harry and Petunia. Harry could see the resemblance between them, and it gave him hope. Was this his brother? He needed more information. He needed to know what happened the night of November first when he was left on the doorstep. Was his brother left with him? Did Vernon and Petunia even try to take care of his brother, or did they ship him off to an orphanage right away, not even letting him step one foot in the house?

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the boy who might or might not be his brother, but the sharp slam of a car door broke him out of his stupor. Ripping the picture from the paper, Harry shoved it into the pocket of his oversized shorts and scurried back to the kitchen. It wouldn't earn him any points with Petunia if he neglected the dishes. A clean house was a proper house after all.

Petunia had briefly looked in on him, satisfied to see him hunched over the sink, before she went upstairs to prepare for a trip to the city. Petunia Dursley had five outfits that she wore for when she went into town. The first was a forest green tweed skirt suit. It was thick and warm, and matched well with her winter coat. It also helped when the days were rainy, keeping her warm as she traversed the streets. The second was a pretty deep purple party frock. She wore it for those special company dinners she attended with Vernon. The last three were floral cotton dresses, which she bought from a high end designer store. It being summer, Petunia was no doubt going to wear a floral dress to complete her shopping.

Harry finished the last plate and placed it on the drying rack when the phone rang. Wiping his hands dry, Harry approached the mounted telephone only he was cut off when a lacquered nailed claw reached around the corner and grabbed it, barely missing his nose.

"Dursley residence, Petunia speaking, how may I help you?" Petunia's sickly sweet voice flittered around the corner. "Oh Vernon darling! You barely just left, what's the matter?"

Harry rolled his eyes and returned to the kitchen. Now that the dishes were done, he would need to wipe down the stove, counters, and the dining table. The work was tedious but he didn't care, it allowed him to think as he worked. He had a brother somewhere and he needed to find him. He wondered if his brother knew he existed, if he remembered anything. Harry had been just over a year old, and his brother was older, so he had to be two or older. He could barely remember being two, but his brother could have been older than that. He didn't know much so it was all guess work.

"Boy!" Petunia shouted.

Harry lazily lifted his eyes to the woman as she trotted into the room; it seemed she chose to wear the coral floral dress that day. "Vernon had just told me that his sister Marge is arriving earlier than expected for her visit. I'm going into town to pick up Dudley's suit, so I want you to clean this house top to bottom, replace the sheets in the guest room, and go to the florist and get some nice Gerber Daisies for Marge's room. Not yellow though. She hates that colour. She'll be arriving early in the morning and not the day after tomorrow like we hoped." Petunia dropped some money on the table as she ambled away, mumbling to herself.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry replied even though the woman probably didn't hear him. His mind was racing. Marge was coming? He hadn't even known, and she was supposed to arrive on his birthday? Well that would have been the worst gift the Dursley's had ever given him, including the years they just forgot.

The front door closed with a snap and click from the lock, and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. He was alone again. Digging the picture out of his pocket, Harry smoothed down the wrinkles and stared at his possible brother with hard concentration.

"I'm going to find you." He vowed, his resolve strong.

o.O.o

Petunia was home first after lunch. She had immediately hung Dudley's suit in the hall closet, and dropped the bags from the grocers on the kitchen counter. She then went upstairs and changed into her 'at home' clothes, and started a thorough inspection of the house.

"Boy!" She called. Harry found her in the kitchen, adding a little extra kick to her afternoon tea. "Tonight we're making roast. I'll get started now since it takes a few hours t braise. You're making the sides though." She ordered.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry replied. Harry walked into the kitchen and started pulling the ingredients they would need. He pulled out the bottle of cooking sherry, and Petunia was right next to him, snatching the bottle from his hands.

"Careful with that. If you break it, I'm the one that will have to go out and buy some more." She scolded him.

Harry didn't reply as he just went through the motions. The summer after his first year had been great, until his relatives had learned that he couldn't actually use magic outside of school. This summer they had gleefully locked up all his school stuff. Now that his thirteenth birthday was only a day away, he couldn't wait for the chance to leave and go over to Ron's. Well maybe not Ron's… he had saved Ginny, and since then the girl –who had already been overly obsessed with him- had become unbearable. He couldn't go to Hermione's either. They had been grateful that they figured out what the monster was from her clue, but after a month of her being petrified, and her not being there during the actual adventure, Harry could feel a small wedge between them. He would feel highly uncomfortable intruding on her and her parents' home. So maybe, he just wished for school to start up again so he could begin his third year.

Petunia poured some oil into the skillet and sautéed the roast. When it was finished browning, she opened the cooking sherry and took a swig, smacking her lips together when she was finished. Next she deglazed the pan with store bought broth, pouring more sherry than was probably needed, and adding little bits of everything else. She took a few more drinks of the sherry, enjoying the small luxury she enjoyed herself, and when her eyes started glazing over like they usually did, Harry stepped in and took over.

Harry finished the preparation and placed the roast in the oven to braise for the next few hours. As was custom, Harry gathered Petunia's tea cup and led the woman to the sitting room for her to rest. He settled his aunt down, put her tea cut within reaching distance, and turned to leave, but stopped. Normally he would leave her alone for an hour and then she would be back on her feet, ready to walk the neighbourhood scrounging up little bits of gossip, but today, he had a small plan.

Looking over the woman and her state that wouldn't last until dinner, Harry took a chance.

"Aunt Petunia, can I ask a question?"

Petunia's head lightly lulled over to his direction. "What?"

Harry bit his lip, but scavenged up all the Gryffindor courage he had in his body. "What happened to my older brother?" He asked without a tremble in his voice. He was quite proud of himself.

Petunia laughed. Normally she giggled or cackled, but today it was a full blown laugh, with a slight crazed edge. "Your brother? Oh your brother… the little bastard looked just like your father, all messy hair and defiant eyes." She trailed off and started looking away, but Harry stepped forward.

"But what happened to him?" Harry pressed.

Petunia calmed down enough to scoff at him. "We sent him away. He reminded me of your father, sitting there proudly, and protecting your crib. He refused to let you go, screeched his head off, nearly waking the whole street! Well, Vernon smacked him on the back of the head and carted him off to the nearest orphanage. That letter… that letter that ruined everything… it said what happened and that we had to take for you both… oh but we saw the loophole we did. That old coot said to protect you first and foremost and since there is no point in feeding two extra mouths, away he went. It was bad enough the Lily had to go marry that freak Potter, but to produce two brats is ridiculous. Beat her there didn't I? I had the perfect son the first time, didn't need to try again. Ha! Finally best you oh dear sister of mine!" Petunia ranted to herself.

Harry stared at the woman. His brother had been here, with him on the doorstep, protecting him through the night and they got rid of him. Harry felt a warmth spread through his heart that he had a brother that had cared about his so deeply, but then a small spike of anger pierced his euphoria, reminding him that his Aunt and Uncle had taken that away.

"I see. Do you remember which orphanage?" Harry asked, stepping closer to his aunt.

Petunia waved her hand in a flimsy manner. "No no… I never bothered asking Vernon when he got back. I didn't care." Petunia answered, his words slightly slurred, but still coherent.

Harry wanted to stomp his foot in frustration, but held himself back. "Do you remember his name?" A name, he could work with a name, if nothing else.

"Thorne, Thornley, Thornton… something like that." Petunia sighed and looked away, suddenly lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to his presence now.

Harry frowned, but didn't try anymore. He learned something at least. His brother's name was Thorn-something. Thorn-something Potter.

o.O.o

Marge's arrival had gone just about as well as Harry thought it would. When Marge first arrived she had thrust her suitcase so hard into Harry, that he had the wind knocked out of him. He took his time bringing the luggage up to the guest room, happy to spend as much time away from Marge as he could. When we went to the kitchen after completing his task, Marge had wasted no time laying into him. She berated him on everything from his imaginary ego to the hole in his left sock. Harry held his tongue, even if he really wanted to yell some nasty comments back at her, and took the harsh words with nary a flinch.

It was on the morning of his birthday that things started going downhill, or uphill depending on the perspective. Harry had woken up to Aunt Petunia banging on his door, and then proceeded to trek downstairs. He started breakfast, and slowly the Dursleys entered. Marge was first, she sat down, her girth taking up an entire side of the table, and started to complain about everything. Petunia had pandered to the woman but Harry had seen her eyes shoot over to the cupboard where she hid her gin.

Dudley was next. The teenager waddled into the room and straight to the table to take his seat. His plate was already filled and the T.V remote on hand. The boy turned on the telly, barely greeting his mother and Aunt before he started shovelling food into his gob.

"Petunia, you must get your gutters cleaned or something, it was absolutely dreadful." Marge's voice boomed. She was eating several sausages and some eggs, dropping pieces here and there on the floor for Ripper and dirtying the clean white vinyl flooring. "I got up around midnight to get a drink of water for my dear Ripper, and there were several Owls, just flying around and making a nuisance of themselves."

"O-owls?" Petunia parroted, her back stiff. Harry's hand stilled as he was turning the bacon over, and leaned closer to listen in.

"Yes, I counted three of them!" Marge announced, her meaty hand holding up the correct number of digits.

"Just flying around the house?" Petunia asked.

"Yes, just flying around. My Ripper just about jumped out the window to chase them. Only your house though, the other houses were fine. There must be something in you gutters attracting them, like rats or something. I remember just last summer there was a man down the road, had to re-do his whole roof because a group of mice burrowed into the rafters and was playing on the roof. It was terrible, the construction crew made all levels of noise, morning and night," Marge blathered on.

"Well, then I'll send the boy outside today to clean them. We don't want owls flying around here," Petunia stated her voice taking on a slight high pitch. Petunia was afraid of mice, and used all sorts of chemicals and traps to prevent them from ever entering her house.

"You hear that boy!" Marge's voice boomed louder. "No laying about today, taking advantage of my brothers and his wife's kindness. We're putting you to work."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry answered, deciding to ignore Marge in a small bit of petulance.

Vernon lumbered into the room next. He seemed to miss the previous conversation, which was good for Harry, and he sat down picking up his paper.

"Turn on the news, would you Dudley?" Vernon asked, his eyes scanning the local news section. Dudley pouted, but complied. The dining area was silent as the blonde teenager picked up the remote and clicked the channels down to the local news station.

Harry finished the bacon and carried the pan right over to the table, dividing the meat up among the four family members. Petunia barely glanced at her share, instead eyeing the stains on her clean floor. Harry had to commend the woman for her fortitude. Normally she would have already grabbed a cloth and scrubbed the area clean again, but she was holding out remarkably well.

"We have the whole day free, is there anything special anyone would like to do?" Vernon asked, folding his newspaper closed and placing it on the left hand side of his plate.

Petunia continued eyeing the grease spots, and restraining herself, but she answered Vernon still. "I need to go to the grocers…Dudley is low on ice treats and we need to pick up something for dinner tonight." She spoke, he gaze firmly locked on the grease and slobber.

"Piers and Michael wanted to have tea together." Dudley replied. Harry knew he was lying and that he was going to go over to Michael's house and the three of them would look at naughty magazine's that Michael had stolen from his older brother. Dudley had even brought one home and hid it under his pillow. Harry knew because he could hear his cousin talking to the magazine at night, and especially to one picture that Dudley had called his 'Big Boob Betty'.

"We can run errands today, maybe stop at a tailor," Marge suggested. "I want to buy Colonel Fubster a nice hat for taking care of my precious dogs while I'm here."

"Yes yes," Vernon agreed. "We can all go out. Except…" Vernon's eyes darted over to Harry, sizing him up.

"Aunt Petunia asked me to clean the gutters," Harry said nonchalantly, wanting to avoid Mrs. Figgs.

"Watch your tone boy!" Marge snapped.

"It's okay Marge, just means we need to tell to be a little harder on him." Harry knew Vernon didn't say that for him, only to placate Marge long enough for them to leave the house and avoid one of her long tirades. The last one had been the night before when Petunia announced they were going out for dinner. Marge had been unimpressed and started in on a long lecture about how people were so frivolous with their money these days. She explained how they always seemed to go out to eat and how they spend so much on a single meal when the same amount of money could provide food for three. The fact that she tossed pounds Dudley's way over the smallest things was left unsaid. It wasn't smart to inject your opinion in the middle of Marge's diatribes. Marge's rants always made Harry wonder if Petunia had drank before she married Vernon, or it was a habit that came about after meeting her sister-in-law.

"You should call them right now and tell them to keep a tally of how many punishments he deserves when he gets back," Marge stated firmly. "Give him something to look forward to. Bad apples need to be put to work, and handled with a firm hand."

Harry shot the woman a small glare behind her back.

"Come now Marge…" Vernon tried to soothe. "Now isn't the time. We are about to go out and we shouldn't dampen the mood by discussing the boy. I'll call when we return, but for now let's get ready and leave in high spirits."

Marge still seemed miffed at him –but really when wasn't she- but she gladly rose from her seat and took Ripper upstairs. Once she was gone, Petunia was on her feet with a wash cloth in hand and bottle of bleach and water, ready to clean her floors. "disgusting, disgusting, disgusting…" she chanted as she got to her knees and started scrubbing the infected area. Harry gathered the dishes and didn't say anything, completely content to know that he would be home alone for the day.

Once the family was gone, Harry scampered up to his room. Marge had given him an idea, as much as he would hate to admit that the woman helped him in anyway. He was an apple, and apples come from trees. The Potters must have a family tree, and if he could look at it even just once, he might be able to learn more about his brother. Harry grabbed parchments and his quill, quickly opening his ink bottle, ready to write to Ron and ask if wizards have family tree's and if so where can he find his, but his hand stilled. Ron had told him last night that he was in Egypt. Hedwig wasn't ready for such a long journey, and Errol especially wasn't up for such a task. Harry sighed and put his quill down. What was he going to do now?

As smart as Hermione was, Harry was pretty sure that she wouldn't know about wizarding family trees since she was muggleborn, and Harry really wasn't close to anyone else. Sure there were the guys in his dorm, but Seamus was a half-blood and from his stories it seemed he mainly dealt with muggle stuff, and Dean was a muggleborn as well. Then there was Neville who… Harry stood up straight. Neville was a pureblood and would know about these things. They weren't particularly close, but they were friendly enough that Harry didn't feel completely uncomfortable writing him. Harry picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and got to work.

_Dear Neville,_

_How are you? Has your summer been good? Have done anything fun? I know it might be odd seeing a letter from me, but I wanted to ask you something. Do wizarding families have family trees? I'm still pretty dim when it comes to all the wizarding culture and stuff and I wanted to know if the Potter's had one, and if so where can I see it? Does the wizarding world have a library with a hall or records or archives?_

_You may be wondering why I'm asking this, but there is something I want to know. You don't need to rush to answer me or anything, I can wait until school starts if you want. You don't even need to answer me. Thanks for reading this at least. _

_I hope you have a good rest of break._

_Harry._

Harry cringed as he read the letter. He had been very hesitant and unsure of what to write, and it clearly showed. He pushed it off to the side to dry and tried his hand at writing another one. Except, that the second letter turned out worse and the third was no better. Giving up and hoping for the best, Harry tied the first letter to Hedwig and sent his faithful owl off after a long string of apologies for waking her.

Now onto the gutters.

o.O.o

That night over dinner while Marge was enjoying her wine, she was speaking loudly and retelling an utterly fascinating, in her opinion, tale about the time Ripper had tried to eat a stray cat, and how the horrible feline had ran around the yard, leading the dog on a merry chase, before it escaped up a tree. Harry knew exactly how that cat felt.

Marge seemed to have seen his shiver and her eyes narrow, ready to start her favourite pastime. "We have someone here who knows exactly how fast Ripper is, don't we?" she threw out, baiting him.

Harry stayed silent.

"When we get runt like this, we usually drown them. I bet that's what Ripper always trying to do. Eliminate the runt for the family. They are weak, underbred," Marge taunted. "Nothing against you Tuney dear, but your sister picked a poor choice for a husband. Two rotten eggs came together to form this little nancy."

Harry clenched his fist, staring determinedly at the floor. He would not rise to her taunts. He would ignore her, and her words. He did not want to give her the satisfaction. Harry needed to remind himself that Marge was only full of hot air. One day she would burst and-

POP!

Harry's head snapped up at the sound and he felt his face drain of blood at the sight before him. Marge literally looked like someone had taken a pin to her and popped her flat. Her body was deflated and slumped over her chair. One flimsy air was resting on the table near her wine glass, and rest of her was hanging limply from the chair.

"MARGE!" Vernon and Petunia screamed at the same time, rushing towards her.

Harry panicked. What was he going to do? He had killed his Aunt with magic. Surely the Ministry were going to be here soon and cart him off to prison. They would snap his wand, and he would never find his brother. This couldn't be happening. He just wanted her to stop talking, not die. Harry started to hyperventilate. He didn't know what to do. He could run but he didn't think he would make it far, plus he had nowhere to go.

Several cracks sounded from outside, but Harry barely registered them as he watched Vernon and Petunia try to pick up Marge's considerable mass. Vernon was shouting her name, and Petunia was trying to shake her while positioning her body to block Dudley from seeing the sight. The front door was slammed open, but no one paid it any mind. Dudley was crying, and Harry was frozen.

When several robed figures with drawn wands burst into the kitchen, Harry couldn't say a word as he fainted. The Ministry had arrived to arrest him.

* * *

I know many were wondering about Dumbledore and if he's evil in this story, but i hope this clears up some suspicion. He didn't get rid of Harry's brother. He's not some secret Dark Lord in this story. He's... Dumbledore...

**Fun Football Fact:**

No network footage exists of Super Bowl I. It was reportedly taped over (for a soap opera, according to some rumors).


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

**Warnings: **OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

**The Third Tackle**

Harry groaned as he woke up, his mouth was dry and he hoped that Aunt Petunia left his door unlocked so he could slip out and get a drink from the bathroom. He rolled over onto his side and stretched out, listening as his back cracked and smiling as his toes curled in satisfaction.

"I'm glad you're awake, Mister Potter," a deep voice spoke up.

Harry's eyes snapped opened at the sound and he sat right up. His eyes shot around the room and a feeling of dread washed over at him at the unfamiliar space. He was not in his room at Privet Drive; he wasn't even in the house. He was somewhere clean, white and sterile.

"No reason to look so alarmed, you're at St. Mungo's Hospital," the voice spoke again.

Harry looked towards the sound and found a tall bald man with dark skin and a friendly grin staring back at him. He had a single gold hoop in one ear, and crimson robes on with a crest over his heart. Now Harry couldn't be sure, and this was just a wild guess, but the man could potentially be from the Ministry. After all, in Harry's experience, only people in government work wore crests on their robes. Everyone else wore robes and expected you to know who they were.

"W-why am I-I h-here?" Harry asked confused as to why he wasn't rotting in a jail cell somewhere with the broken bits of his wand at his feet.

The man frowned. "Normally when someone faints for no reason the logical thing to do is take them to the hospital."

It was Harry's turn to frown. "B-but shouldn't I-i be i-in jail for k-kil-killing my aunt?" Harry asked. He gripped the sheet tightly in his fists, scared that the question might remind the man why he showed up at his house in the first place and then finally cart him off somewhere in shackles. But the action would be fair, he did kill someone and usually that isn't dealt with a slap on the wrist.

"Hmm? Kill? You didn't kill anyone. Your aunt was a bit deflated but the department of accidental magic was quick to arrive and set her right. Just pumped some air into her and now she's in bed good as new. She'll wake up in the morning and think she had bit too much to drink, but won't connect you to magic or its existence," the man explained.

That was a relief. But it still didn't explain why he wasn't expelled at least. He had already gotten a warning from Dobby's little pudding adventure, so why wasn't he being kicked out of school. Unless… he already had been while asleep! Harry's eyes widened and looked at the man with pleading eyes. "D-did they a-already snap my w-wand?" He hoped they didn't. He wanted to at least hold the magical stick one last time before he was forever cast out of the magical world.

"Are you alright Potter? Why would they snap your wand?" the man gave him a concerned look as if Harry were crazy or something.

Was he alright? Harry seemed to be the only one in this room that had any clue what was going on. It was very simple. He performed magic to nearly kill his aunt, thus breaking the under-aged magic law, and therefore his wand should be in two. Was this man really a governmental worker? He should know that at least. Harry decided to inform the man as best he could, even if part of his mind was telling him to stop because explaining why his wand should be snapped was not a good idea. Harry didn't want his wand to be snapped, but it was the principal of the thing. He deserved punishment for his actions and this man was too dim to keep up. The only solution was to inform him of the proper penance and then they could move on and Harry would be able to look at his situation with a better eye and figure out a plan for the rest of his life, without having to worry about idiot ministry employee's neglecting their jobs.

"Last year I received a warning for using magic, and was told that if I did it again I would be expelled. I performed magic tonight and so my wand should be in two," he explained in the clearest way possible. The man gave him an amused look. Amused! What was he so amused about? Harry was helping him do his job; he should be thankful or guilty and a bit chastised for clearly overlooking his duties, not amused. Honestly, the people the ministry hired… if Harry were able to stay in the wizarding world, he might develop plans on how to screen the prospective employee's better when they apply to the Ministry.

"Yes, that would normally happen, but since you're Harry Potter and taking into account recent events… the Minister has personally decided that you will receive no punishment for the accident this evening. Although, given the event that happened you will not be returning to your relatives tonight or for the remainder of the summer. Once you have been cleared by a doctor, you will be moved to the Leaky Cauldron where you will spend the rest of your break until you are escorted to the Hogwarts Express," the man explained.

"Oh…" Well that explained why the man was amused. Seeing a child try to justify having his wand snapped when the matter was already cleared up probably was funny. Maybe he wasn't as dim as Harry thought. As long as he never knew Harry's thoughts, he was sure they would get along just fine. It was nice to know that he wasn't going to be kicked out the wizarding world, it would make his search for his brother much easier. In addition to that, he was nicely informed that he would not have to return to the Dursleys, and wasn't that just the icing on his 'not getting kicked out' cake. "So… the Cauldron eh?"

The man grinned again at Harry's awkward form of small talk. He couldn't fault him for that. "Yes. I will call a doctor to look at you one more time and then I will take you over. The Minister wanted to escort you himself but after waiting 45 minutes for you to wake up he got impatient and left. You already have a room under your name and your stuff has been retrieved and transported over," the man said in a low timber with a slight edge of laughter. Maybe he thought the Minister was funny. Harry wouldn't know, he never actually met the man.

"I see…thanks I guess? So, what's your name?" Harry asked awkwardly. He felt a little bad for thinking the man dim earlier and it was only doubled when he realized he never asked the man his name.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'm an Auror." Harry nodded his head, pretending to understand what that meant. Kingsley smirked at him before turning away and walking out the door, presumably to find a doctor. That left Harry with nothing to do except twiddle his thumbs and think about his good luck. No Dursleys, no expulsion, and… well damn… he never got the trip form signed… no Hogsmeade.

o.O.o

When they arrived at Harry's room, Kingsley placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and held him back. The man insisted that he enter first and 'scout' the room. Harry didn't really know what he was looking for and didn't want to ask so he let him, hoping that he would finish quickly and leave, because Harry was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. Sure enough the room was safe and Harry walked in, only to get a face full of white feathers.

"Hedwig!" He cried. He was so happy to see his feathered friend. She truly was amazing to show up here and wait for him.

"Right just a few quick things to talk about," Kingsley said and broke up Harry's reunion with his owl. Kingsley was quick to explain to Harry that he was not allowed to use any more magic, he was not allowed to go to the muggle side, and he was not allowed to leave without first informing Tom. Harry nodded, not verbally agreeing to follow the rules, because he didn't want to lie to the nice man that brought him to the hospital and here.

Harry wanted to find his brother, and considering that his brother was potentially in America playing American football at a muggle school, Harry may need to muggle it up in order to meet the boy. This meant that he would possibly have to venture into Muggle London if he wanted to gather certain information, and thus break his agreement with the nice man who may or may not work in relation to space and the pretty light shows that happened at night.

Once Kingsley left, Harry turned back to his owl and grinned. "Okay girl, let's see what Neville wrote." Detaching the letter, Harry hesitated for a moment. The letter could contain information that could help or hinder his search. He hoped for the former, but he couldn't rule out the latter. Unraveling the parchment, Harry took a deep breath and started reading.

_Hey Harry!_

_I was surprised to see you writing me. Not a bad surprise or anything, a good surprise, because I didn't expect anything from you. I'm not saying that you wouldn't write me, but I didn't think you would ever have reason to write me. I'm not saying that you couldn't write me, because I really like that fact that you wrote me, but I'm not also asking you to keep writing me because that would be weird, right? I know you didn't write me to ask me about writing me or anything and well… I think I should just skip ahead and answer your actual question. But you know, you could write me about writing me, I wouldn't mind and I would happily write you back. But your question first!_

_Old Families do have family trees. Me Gran has the Longbottom tapestry hung up in the drawing room. It shows the family all the way back to when my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-many greats grandfather first discovered magic and started the Longbottom line. If the Potter's have one you could find it at the Potter Manor or locked up in the Potter Family Vault at Gringotts. _

_We have a public library that has a family archive in it, but the books only show three generations back. Purebloods think that displaying the entire line is an invasion of the privacy. But me gran just says that they wanted it all covered up because all the cousins marrying cousins, and that some muggleborns would look up their history and throw the inbreeding in the purebloods face. The muggleborns would preach about jeans or something and it annoyed the purebloods into hiding the family line instead of openly flaunting it like they did in the past. _

_Anyways, the library is just behind the bank, you can go anytime it's open every hour of the day. Me gran's taken me a few times. The herbology section is full of interesting books. But there's a tea shop attached and the old biddies like to gather there and chat on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They watch the entrance and then try to guess what certain witches and wizards are looking for. Some of it's interesting to listen to but other times they talk about a bunch of dirty stuff when a good looking bloke comes in._

_Well I hoped that helped. I'm having a great break. My greenhouse is really flourishing and I have some new plants on the way. I hope they arrive soon. If you have any more questions don't be afraid to write and ask. I don't mind. Really, you can write just to say hi if you want. I hope you're having a good break too!_

_Neville_

Harry finished the letter and set it down, thinking over the information Neville gave him, but also wondering if he should write the boy regularly. It seemed like Neville needed it. Harry absently scratched Hedwig's belly before deciding that if he was going to plan anything he should do it after he rests. There was no way he could make a coherent plan of action while yawning. Nodding to himself, Harry walked over to his trunk and took out some night clothes. He quickly searched the contents and was surprised to see that the Aurors or whoever gathered his things, managed to find the items he hid under his floorboards. Very thorough people those Aurors.

o.O.o

With the rising of the sun, Harry was up and out of bed, ready to start his day. His plan was simple. He would go to the library first and first confirm he had a brother and his real name. There was no point in going to the bank and wasting time when there was no guarantee that the family tree was even there or that he had access to it. So far he only knew about his trust vault, and in theory he probably wasn't allowed access to the family vault until he was of age. Thus, the library first.

Next he would go to the book store and see if there were any books or pamphlets about magical travel. But then again, Harry may just sneak into the muggle side of London and get all the proper forms needed to apply for a passport and travel on an airplane. He may have to go to the London Public Library to figure out the passport office, proper forms, and to research Notre Dame. America was quite large and Harry knew that randomly picking a destination wouldn't exactly get him there. No, he would need to learn exactly where this school was so that when he booked his flight he could go to the proper…province…territory…state! The proper state and city.

Happy with his current plan, Harry stood up and gathered his satchel. He put in some parchment, quills and ink so that he could take notes, his invisibility cloak, his wand –because you never know what will happen- and his money. Looking at his pouch of coins Harry wondered if stopping at the bank wasn't a bad idea. He could exchange some for muggle money and then buy a muggle notebook and pen for when he was in the Public library. He would already get weird looks for his clothes; he really didn't need them to stare because of his old fashioned writing tools as well. Right, bank, library, stationary store and public library.

Setting out, Harry stopped at the bar and talked to Tom. He ate a quick breakfast and bid the man a good day as he walked to the back to the entrance to Diagon Alley. He was on a mission!

The bank was easy. He exchanged some galleons over, and left without a fuss. He found the library exactly where Neville said it would be and walked inside to find a large Oak desk blocking him from the rest of the building.

"What are you looking for?" A nasally voice asked him. A woman, around her mid-thirties, with blonde hair and dark eyebrows asked him as she appeared over the counter.

"U-um…Could I see the family archives please?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure how this whole system worked.

"Children shouldn't be playing there," The woman said as she sent him a condescending look.

Harry kept calm and didn't visibly react to his words. He would just need to treat this woman like all the other people who looked down on him for his looks, age, and reputation around Little Whinging. Widening his eyes, sticking out his bottom lip slightly, Harry stared straight into the woman's eyes. He didn't say anything, just stared until the woman cracked and looked away first.

"Second level on the right hand side," the woman said while refusing to look at him again.

Harry didn't waste a second before he scampered off and to the stairs. He was getting closer and closer to his brother, he could feel it. At the top of the stairs, Harry turned right on a dime and almost skipped over to the archives. The section fenced in with a golden arch and a velvet rope surrounding it. It wasn't exactly hard to miss.

Walking through the arch, Harry scanned the closest titles and was happy to note that everything seemed to be organized alphabetically. Hogwarts library was divided into sections and then from there you had to search each title for the book you wanted since the school didn't employ any organization tactics beyond that. No Dewey decimal system, no alphabetization, nothing that would make a student's search easier. For Merlin's sake they used alphabetical order in 1st century BC, why couldn't Hogwarts install it? Pushing that thought away, Harry quickly walked down the rows until he come to P.

Pulling the book marker 'Potter' down, Harry flipped it open and passed the autobiographies of his grandparents, his parents, and straight to his name and his brothers. Harry had an entire page dedicated to him, but his brother only had one sentence after the usual profile information, and the new information shocked Harry.

**Potter, Thornley **

DOB: October 10 19-

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Green

Born a squib.

Well, that was one good reason as to why his brother never went to Hogwarts.

* * *

**Fun Football Fact:**

In the NFL the home team is required to provide 24 footballs for each game, although only around 10 are normally used.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

**Warnings: **OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

**The Fourth Tackle**

Harry officially hated the passport system.

Not only had it taken him a full day to just find where to get the forms, but then when he got back to the Cauldron, he had been utterly confused as what to fill out even after two days of staring at it. There was the easy stuff, his name and birthday, but then he needed his mother's information, and his birth certificate. Then a bunch of other stuff that he really didn't understand and was positive he did not own nor had a way to get. What was a guarantor, and where did he find them? The instruction sheet said it was someone who has had their passport for over five years, but Harry only knew his Aunt and Uncle and there was no way they would sign for him. A picture, that would be easy, but all the other documents needed to prove his identity, his guardianship, his status as a British citizen… was it really this hard to try and leave a country? It was starting to feel like he was imprisoned in Britain.

First he should tackle the things he can get- his birth certificate being one. He hoped. He really didn't know if the wizarding world kept records like that, but it was his hope his mother –her being muggleborn and all- that she had filled out a muggle birth certificate for him. Still, Harry should ask around and find out how the wizarding world worked. It was a shame how little he actually knew about the magical world, just the little things that you don't think are important until moments like this, had him baffled. If asked where he would go to get a birth certificate in the muggle world, he knew exactly where, but not here. If asked where the nearest post office, Harry knew where to go, but in the magical side Harry didn't know if they had post offices or every just assumed you had an owl and sent mail that way. But what if you were too poor to afford an owl? Did wizards and witches trudge into the wild and catch an owl with their bare hands? Well probably not their bare hands, they probably used their wands but the owl wouldn't exactly be trained either so their mail might never arrive… bah! The whole thing was confusing and the only way he would know was to ask.

And ask he shall.

Harry sat himself on a stool and waited for Tom to notice him. Once he did, the barkeep came over and smiled. "What can I do fer ya lad?"

Harry smiled back at him. Tom was a good guy. "Could I get a butterbeer please? And if you have time could I ask you some things?"

"Course yeh can! Give me a moment," Tom answered as he poured a glass of amber liquid for another patron and got Harry's drink. "What do yeh need to know?"

"Do wizards keep birth records?" Harry jumped right in.

Tom seemed surprised but he shook it off. "When a baby is born, ta parents fill out a form at ta Ministry and all ta information is filed away in ta Family Affairs office."

"Oh… do you know if a copy is filed with the Muggle offices?" It was a long shot that Tom would know but he had to try.

"Don't know," Tom said with a shrug.

"Magical and Muggle birth records are completely different," a new voice spoke up. Harry turned in his seat to see a dark skinned woman with a kind smile looking at him and short curly hair that bounced as she talked. "When I learned that my son was a wizard, I was told I needed to fill out a form to show he was magical. The whole process was quick and easy, just some basic information- nothing to the extent you need for the muggle records. Once I was done, the professor tapped it with her wand and said it was being filed at the ministry and to show his proof of birth –that all parents with magical children needed to do it," She explained.

"I see, so I couldn't use it to get a muggle passport?" Harry asked.

The woman chuckled. "Oh heavens no. There is no way the government would accept that. It's a piece of parchment with writing. There's no proof of authentication, half the required information is missing, and it isn't on official paperwork."

Harry felt his shoulders drop at that. Well that sucked. Now he just needed to hope his mother filed his birth in the muggle world.

"Why do you need a muggle passport? Do wizards not have their own form of travel?" the woman asked.

Tom perked up and rejoined the conversation. "Course we do. There's portkeys, they can take ya just 'bout anywhere. The floo, one fireplace to the next, as long as their registered. Apparating is popular with adults. You can easily pop from one place into another. Much simpler an' faster than the muggles."

Harry nodded along and promised himself to look into these things. They did sound fast, but… a part of him wanted to do this the muggle way. His brother was a squib and he didn't want to pop up in front of him and scare him half to death.

"Any reason why you were looking at a muggle passport?" the kind woman asked.

"I want to go to America, but I want to do it the muggle way," he answered.

The woman smiled and was about to say something when she was interrupted. "Mum!"

Harry looked at the new comer and was shocked. "Dean?" he asked.

"Harry?" Dean looked just as shocked to see him but he quickly recovered and grinned. "Harry! What are you doing here?"

"I'm staying at the Cauldron for the rest of the summer, you?"

Dean slapped a hand down on Harry's shoulder as he spoke, "Seamus invited me to meet up and get our Hogwarts stuff together. I was just about to meet up with him but I noticed my mum missing and went looking for her. Can't have my money supply missing can I?" Dean laughed.

Harry felt himself laughing too as he easily fell into Dean's light hearted atmosphere. It was always a pleasure being around the tall boy.

"Dean!" The woman lightly scolded as she sent him a look.

Dan took it in stride and grinned at the woman. "Come on mum, you know I love you."

"Mum?" Harry looked between the two and could he see the resemblance. Dean got his smile from his mother as they both seemed so kind and genuine, and they had the same nose and eyes.

Dean looked back at him and nodded his head. "This is my mum, Evie Thomas. Mum, this is my dorm-mate at school, Harry Potter," Dean introduced them.

Harry quickly stood up and offered his hand to the woman, "It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am."

Evie took his hand lightly and gave him another kind smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you too Harry. Dean has talked so much about you; I was hoping to meet you one day. Although I must ask," Harry steeled himself for whatever she was going to ask. He hoped it wasn't about his scar or that night. Those questions got very tiring. "Dean said that you were the best quidditch player in the entire school, and considering how much he waxes poetic about the sport and how shy he is, I was hoping to ask if you could help give him some pointers? He's been talking about trying out the team but is very nervous he won't be good enough."

"Mum!" Dean whispered hurriedly. "You can't just ask people stuff like that. Especially not Harry Potter…"

Harry blinked. That was a surprise, but a welcome one. Quidditch was one of the few areas he was actually happy and proud to talk about. "Of course I wouldn't mind. Dean is a good friend. But, I don't know how much help I will be. I'm only a seeker, but I could ask Oliver if it would be alright if Dean sat in a few practices and watched, maybe play."

"Would you? That would be wonderful, you are such a sweet boy," Evie exclaimed. "See Dean, he didn't mind at all."

Harry flushed at the woman's words. It felt nice to be complimented like that.

"Mum, Harry will be busy with his own quidditch training, I can't ask him to give up his time to teach me," Dean argued.

Harry cut in, not wanting the mother and son to fight. "I don't mind really. I think it will be fun. Plus as a seeker I just sit there looking around until I see the snitch, it's not like I have to train as hard as the chasers and other players," Harry said.

That seemed to ignite the inner sportsman in Dean as the boy instantly lit up and started talking. "Not as hard? Harry as the seeker you have the heaviest role. You have to find that snitch before the other seeker so the enemy doesn't get the extra 150 points. You battle the most brutal of bludgers, and have you seen some of the dives and catches you made. It's not easy seeing that little golden ball, let me tell you, because even we in the stands can never find it and it's usually closer to us, but not you, you spot the thing so quickly and chase it. Even when you're chasing it most of the audience doesn't see the snitch until its clutched in your hands. I mean, part of the reason I love quidditch so much is because of the awesome catches you made. "

Harry blushed again. How do you respond to that?

"Of course, I wouldn't want to be the seeker. Everyone in school even the Slytherins agree that you are the perfect seeker, but I would want to play chaser. They are just like strikers in football, and like in football they can tell each other exactly what to do with the way they pass the ball. In football the mid-fielder can pass you the ball and it can tell you whether to dribble, pass or shoot. It's all there in that one pass and you can make or break a game from your communication. I think chasers are the same way. Just watching Angelina, Alicia, and Katie play together you can tell they can speak to one another on a different level. Mind you, you are the most impressive Harry, but I think I would have more fun as a chaser," Dean rambled on.

Harry laughed lightly at his friend. "With that much passion, I think you will make a great quidditch player."

"Really? I know I will have to wait until the girls graduate but I don't mind really. Just the chance to play in one game would be amazing," Dean vehemently declared.

"I'm sure if I tell Oliver that letting you play in practices will help the future success of the team, after he leaves, he will be begging you to participate," Harry told the boy seriously. Harry meant to say it in a joking manner but as the words travelled from his brain to his mouth he realized that his prediction would be spot on. Oliver would start training Dean to take over if he knew that it would help Gryffindor in the future. No one loved the Gryffindor Quidditch team as much as Oliver Wood.

Dean seemed ecstatic at the news and the happy grin didn't even falter when the tall boy was tackled from behind with a shout, "Dean!"

"Seamus, get off me!" cried Dean as he went down.

Just then Mrs. Thomas seemed to remember why they were there as she gasped. "Oh dear, we completely forgot about the Finnigans."

"Don't worry about it Evie," a new woman said as she walked up. She was shorter than Mrs. Thomas but still taller than all the boys; she had bright red curly hair, and blue eyes.

"Nellie!" Mrs. Thomas cried as she went to greet the woman. "How have you been?"

"Same ole same ole. We were waiting at the quidditch store like promised but after five minutes Seamus couldn't wait anymore and came bull rushing the pub to find Dean."

"Sorry about the wait. We were walking through the pub when I heard the sweetest little boy asking questions about the muggle world, and well I got a bit distracted. It was a pleasant surprise to find that the boy was Dean's friend Harry," Evie told the other woman. Harry flushed at her words again. He had never been called sweet before.

Just then Seamus and Dean picked themselves off the ground and Seamus noticed him. "Harry! What are you doing here?" he asked with a wide grin.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Seamus's mother asked.

Harry looked down at the ground as he recognized that hero-worshipping tone in the woman's voice. It had been nice talking to Mrs. Thomas as she seemed not to know who he was, but Mrs. Finnigan was a witch…

"Ah Mam!" Seamus cried. "Don't embarrass my friend. Sorry Harry, I tried turning her off ya, but even after all the tales of how ya left your dirty socks on the floor, how ya never brush your hair, and that time ya started a pillow fight by throwing your dirty pants on Dean's head, she still thinks you're an angel."

Harry felt mortified as he stared at the Irish boy. "I didn't do any of that! I brush my hair every day and I put my dirty laundry in the provided hamper and I would never throw my," Harry felt another wave of mortification flash through him as he lowered his voice, "I would never throw my pants at someone else." How could Seamus say those things and to his mother?

Seamus grinned and threw an arm over Harry's shoulders "I know but you should have seen what me mam was writing to me," Seamus pitched his voice to imitate his mother, "'Don't bother Harry Potter', 'Watch Harry Potter he can teach you how to be a good wizard', 'Harry Potter is good boy, I bet he's doing great services to the wizarding world when he sneaks out at night'."

Seamus' mother looked murderous and quickly reached over and slapped the back of her son's head. "Seamus Cillian Finnigan you stop that right now. How dare you embarrass me and your friend," she scolded her son loudly.

"Mam!" Seamus yelled back as he clutched his abused head.

"You apologize right now!" Mrs. Finnigan cut an intimidating figure as she looked down on her son with her hands on her hips.

"Alright alright. Sorry Harry, didn't mean to say those things."

"It's okay," Harry waved it off, wanting the subject to drop. The faster they got away from the talk of Harry's pant's the happier he would be.

Mrs. Thomas stepped in next and took over. "We need to get you boys your school supplies so we better leave. Harry, dear, would you like to join us?" She asked kindly. Her face was so open and welcoming that Harry wanted to instantly say yes, but… he was unsure, he really didn't want to impose on them especially since this had been a day for Dean and Seamus to get together. It would be rude if he agreed and the boys had to change their plans to accommodate him.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Dean spoke to him. "If you already have plans to go school shopping with Ron and Hermione we will understand. No reason to feel guilty." Dean had that calming aura about him again and Harry felt more relaxed and ready to answer.

"I don't have plans with them but I don't want to be bother to you. You already had plans and now you will have to change them for me…" He trailed off. His eyes shoot to the floor, unable to look at either of the Thomas'.

Dean put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Nonsense, it will be fun. We will wait here as you get your money and list okay?"

Harry looked around and seeing that everyone else looked welcoming enough he agreed. It barely took him a minute to return to his room and gather his things before he was back downstairs and with the group.

"Let's get shopping boys!" Mrs. Finnigan exclaimed as she marched towards Diagon alley.

Seamus sighed and face palmed as he watched his mother. "And she says I'm embarrassing," he muttered.

Harry laughed with Dean and followed the Irish boy out.

o.O.o

"No! Blatching is when you grab the other guys broom by the tail!' Seamus argued. The group had finished shopping and went their separate ways but a few days later Harry heard a knock on his door and opened it to find Dean and Seamus standing on the other side grinning at him. Mrs. Thomas and Finnigan had been there as well, and Mrs. Thomas happily announced they stopped by for dinner. On the way down the stairs Seamus had whispered to Harry that his mother felt upset that Harry was staying at the pub alone so when Seamus poked her to come by for a visit she didn't argue. Dean piped in next and told Harry that Seamus mom had called his and they planned the trip to keep him company. Harry felt a wave of gratitude warm him up at the news. Once they got to a table the boys had sat down and in no time at all they got down to discussing important wizarding matters- quidditch.

"I'm telling you that Blatching is locking broom handles, like your latching them together," Dean argued back.

Seamus puffed up his chest and turned to Harry. "Harry, you're the quidditch player here, which is it?" He asked.

Harry had been enjoying the fight and had laughed at both boys. "Blatching is flying with the intent to hit the other player. Blagging is grabbing their broom tail or handle with your hand and Blurting is locking broom handles," he explained.

"Really? I thought intentional colliding was Bumphing," Dean responded.

"No, that's when the beaters hit the bludgers at the audience," Harry explained. He learned all this from Oliver. The quidditch captain was nothing if not thorough when it came to teaching the sport.

"What's the one that the Slytherins use all the time?" Seamus asked.

"Cobbing: excessive use of elbows." Harry rubbed his side in memory of the few times he had been hit there. If it didn't seem ridiculous Harry would swear the Slytherins used a spell to make their elbows extra pointy and sharp before a match. "Though, they should define excessive because some of those jabs are nasty."

Dean snorted at that. "Nasty? Harry, we watched as one Slytherin nearly took off Katie's head with his elbow. They aren't nasty, they are downright vicious."

"What's this about being vicious?" Mrs. Thomas asked.

"Nothing mum!" Dean reacted quickly. "We were just talking about some of the plants in Greenhouse Three. Professor Sprout was talking about how some are really dangerous, but we won't be dealing with them until fifth year."

"That's good to know." Dean's mom seemed mollified. "What's that boy's name that is good with plants in your dorm?" She asked.

"Neville," Dean answered. "He's a genius at the stuff really. I don't know how he does it."

Harry felt bad that he didn't know Neville was a genius at herbology. He shared a dorm with the boy and he should really know more about him. It wasn't just Neville either. He found out all sorts of interesting things about Dean and Seamus today and the day they went shopping, and it made him wonder why he never tried to get to know them better before.

"Neville has his own greenhouse at home and he spends all summer working in it. He got some new plants recently," added Harry.

Dean and Neville both sent him surprised looks. "You write Neville?" Seamus asked.

Harry was slammed with guilt at that. Was he really that bad at being their friend? Maybe that was why Neville sounded so desperate in his letter, wanting Harry to write again. "I sent him a letter before I got here. I'm still working on a reply to his response," Harry mumbled.

"Really? That's awesome. I want to write him but we don't own an owl. I only get to talk to Seamus because we both have telephones," Dean spoke up.

"Yeah, I've been bugging me mam to get an owl but she doesn't think I can take care of it. Hey! I got an idea. How bout we go up to Harry's room and all three of us can write a letter to Neville and send it," Seamus suggested.

Harry nodded eagerly. He liked the idea of getting closer to his other dorm-mates. Mind you, there was nothing wrong with Ron, but it would be nice to have solid conversations with others beside him and Hermione, or to at least have friends to hang out with when those two got fighting.

"Why don't we all go up to Harry's room then? We've finished eating and I'm sure Tom would like his table back for other patrons. But once you finish your letter we need to leave Seamus," Mrs. Finnigan suggested.

Together the group went up to Harry's room and once inside the mothers did what mother's do best. They fussed over everything.

"Oh Harry dear, we should really look into getting you some new clothes, these ones look like they are about to fall apart," Mrs. Thomas said.

"Seems you're only half done you're summer homework. Seamus wouldn't have gotten any of his done if I didn't nag him every day." Mrs. Finnigan inspected his work.

"Harry, sweetheart, you forgot to get your Hogsmeade form signed. You should get on that, it would be a shame if you missed out."

"Seamus, see how clean Harry's owl cage is? If you can promise me to keep your owl's cage that clean I might get you your own owl."

And on and on they went as they walked around. Harry felt a part of him preen under their comments, relishing in the feeling of having a mother nag and worry over him like so. Harry didn't get to preen for long as Seamus grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the desk where together the three boys composed a letter to Neville. Dean wrote it out since he had the best penmanship, and they each talked a little about their summers so far, and invited Neville to visit Diagon Alley with them sometime before school. Seamus had begged his mother for another trip and she finally gave in, whereas Dean's mother had consented quickly enough when Dean pointed out that Harry may get lonely being here by himself. The added fact that the Thomas' lived in London helped.

They were just finishing the letter when Evie asked Harry something. "Harry dear, I was wondering this earlier but why are you applying for a passport alone? Shouldn't your guardians be helping you?" Harry looked back at the woman to see her looking over his passport application.

"Um…" Harry bit his lip in nervousness. How was he supposed to answer that without hinting towards his home life? "Well I only decided to get the passport after I left them for the summer… and since they live in Surrey and the Minister told me to stay in the wizarding world, I can't go see them…"" Harry answered.

Mrs. Thomas tightened her gaze. "Why doesn't the Minister want you going to the muggle side?" She asked lightly.

Harry didn't know if it was true but it felt like the room got very quiet. "Well…" Harry thought about it but he didn't actually know why he had to stay on the magic side. He never asked. "I don't know. Auror Shacklebolt told me to stay on the magic side and to tell Tom when I leave."

Seamus mother stepped forward and joined the conversation. "Auror? Why was an Auror bringing you here?"

Harry felt his insides freeze. Damn, he let too much slip. "Uh…"

Mrs. Finnigan bent down and stared him straight in the eye. "What happened?" She asked in a soft and calm voice. It was a big difference from the loud and brash way she talked normally.

Harry gave a great sigh and decided in for a penny in for a pound. "I deflated my muggle aunt."

"Deflated?" Mrs. Thomas asked.

"Yeah. She was saying all this nasty stuff about me and my parents and I kinda got mad and so I wished she would run out of hot air and then there was a loud pop and she was all flimsy like a broken balloon."

"Oh sweety, what did she say?" Dean's mother asked as she wrapped her arms around Harry. It was a very warm and comforting embrace and without thought, Harry raised his arms and hugged the kind woman back. He really hoped Dean wouldn't mind that he was hugging his mom.

"She said that two bad eggs came together to create me, a little nancy," Harry mumbled into the woman's shoulder.

Evie Thomas didn't say anything; she only ran her hands up and down Harry's back in a comforting gesture.

"And your Aunt and Uncle didn't say anything in your defense?" Mrs. Finnigan asked. Harry shrugged his shoulders, not denying or confirming anything. "So you used magic and your relatives don't want you back so the ministry stuck you here until school?" Again Harry didn't say anything, but he did nod.

Mrs. Thomas pulled away from Harry and looked him straight in the eye. "Harry, I need to ask you something and you need to promise to tell me the truth okay?" Harry nodded though he was feeling very nervous about her question.

"Harry, do you want a muggle passport so you can run away?"

Harry was momentarily stunned. That thought hadn't crossed his mind at all. "No!" Harry stated with more force than he meant. "I just wanted to find my brother." He tried to reassure the woman.

At his announcement everyone in the room looked confused. Knowing he needed to explain more, Harry rushed to the desk and opened the drawer to pull out everything he knew about his brother. "My aunt accidently let it slip I had a brother. They sent him to an orphanage when they took me in, and he was adopted. I found a picture of him playing American football in America, and then I went to the library and found out his name is Thornley and the reason he never went to Hogwarts is because he's a squib." Harry presented all his gathered information to the woman, wanting them to believe that he didn't have any plans to run away. If they thought he might flee, they would possibly tell the ministry and he would never be allowed to find his brother.

Mrs. Thomas took the parchments from his hands and looked it over, while Mrs. Finnigan looked at the newspaper clipping and compared it to Harry's face.

"He's a squib… so you want to use muggle methods in case he doesn't know about magic?" Mrs. Finnigan asked.

Harry nodded his head fiercely. They needed to believe him.

"Alright then," Mrs. Thomas stood up and started gathering Harry's passport application. "My husband works in parliament, nothing too influential mind you, but enough that we should be able to take care of this. I can't promise anything but you should have a passport by Christmas."

Harry couldn't help but beaming at the woman for her assistance. It seemed like they weren't going to tell the ministry.

"If you need help Evie, you can just call me. I got any of the wizarding matters covered." Harry was quick to profusely thank both women for their help. He didn't want to get them involved but it seemed they both were going to help him if he wanted it or not, and well… Harry did want help.

The tense moment was broken when Seamus slid up next to Harry and in a not so quiet whisper asked "Did you really deflate your Aunt? Cause that sounds awesome."

Not a moment later, Mrs. Finnigan's hand was coming down on her son's head. "Seamus Cillian Finnigan! I swear if you even think about doing the same thing to your aunt, God so help me!" The woman threatened.

Dean's mother laughed the moment off before looking at her wrist watch. "It's getting late… Alright boys, finish your letter. Dean, we will come back in a few days to see Harry again." Mrs. Thomas took a moment to think before she was walking over to the desk and jotting something down on some spare parchment, "Here's our phone number Harry, and if you need anything don't be afraid to call or send your owl."

Harry agreed and after that the rest of the visit went by quickly. They finally finished their letter to Neville and Harry sent it off. Afterwards both Dean and Seamus promised to visit soon, and the group left. As Harry closed the door behind him he felt happy and like he was another step closer to his brother and his dorm-mates. This was turning out to be the best summer ever.

* * *

**Fun Football Fact:**

The first football ever used was round


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

**Warnings: **OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

**The Fifth Tackle**

"Snap!" Dean cried as he slammed his hand down on the cards before they exploded. It was the single most intense game of Exploding Snap Harry had ever played in his life and with each new card the tension grew higher and higher. So far Neville was winning, but Dean, Seamus and Harry were not going to take that lying down. Their manly pride was riding on this game and no one was going to relent.

"Your wand! Use your wand!" Harry yelled at his friend. The smoking would only stop when the tip of a wand touched the cards.

"Ah!" Dean fumbled for his wand but the wood slipped through his fingers and rolled across the table. The four boys stared at the wand before directing their eyes towards the cards. A deep sense of dread settled in their bellies as the smoking pile exploded, putting an end to their game.

As the smoke cleared from their corner of the pub, Neville cleared his throat. "So…does that mean I win?" He asked.

"Indeed it does my friend, indeed it does," Seamus answered him.

Harry looked around and took in his friend soot covered faces and felt a laugh bubble inside him and quickly leave his mouth. He couldn't believe how his friends looked, all dirty and slightly surprised. It was a funny sight and Harry laughed for the first time that summer. It wasn't his normal nervous giggle, or his placating chuckles, but a heartfelt pure laughter that can only be brought about when one is truly happy.

Seamus looked at him and grinned before joining in and soon the other two followed. Dean, ever the responsible one, gathered himself first, "I think we should head up to Harry's room and clean up now."

This was all part of a plan, well not the laughing bit, but the cards and washing up. Harry snuck out of the pub and found a callbox down the street. He called Dean and the other boy told him about taking Harry and Seamus around London and also to get Harrys passport pictures done. Harry had been excited but reminded Dean that technically Harry wasn't allowed in muggle London, so they had plotted and planned until they came up with the perfect plan.

Mrs. Thomas and Finnigan would drop their sons off for the day and then they would make it very noticeable to Tom that they were going to Harry's room. Once there, they would slip under Harry's invisibility cloak and sneak out of the pub. The plans had changed a little when Harry got a reply from Neville and asked the boy if he would like to join. Neville had convinced his grandmother to leave him with Harry and the boys for the day, but didn't tell her about muggle London. It was the single most daring thing he had ever done lying to his grandmother like that.

Now the four were huddled together under Harry's cloak, faces scrubbed clean, and anxiously waiting for someone to enter through the muggle entrance. There must be a universal law out there, with some fancy scientist names attached, that stated when you wanted something to happen it didn't, because Harry felt like they were waiting by the door forever before it finally opened and emitted a girl and her parents.

Seamus opened his mouth to say something but Dean quickly slapped his hand over the Irish boy's mouth to stop him. Harry couldn't get a clear view of the people, so instead of wondering what was happening he was gently pushing his friends through the door and out into the muggle world before the door closed completely and they had to endure another long wait.

"That was close! Harry did you invite Hermione to see you today?" Dean asked once they cleared The Cauldron.

"No… why?" Harry asked.

"Well she…" Seamus trailed off before he shook his head. "Never mind let's just get going."

Harry was curious about Seamus' behavior but let it slide as there was a whole city out there for him to explore. Small quivers of excitement surged through his body at the thought, and Harry ushered his friends down the street and away from the pub. He could feel it in his bones that something thrilling was going to happen and the faster they travelled the sooner it would occur.

"I've always wanted to explore London, where should we start?" He asked, barely keeping himself from running.

o.O.o

London was amazing. Harry vowed that when he was an adult he would strive to live in the bustling city. There was so much to do between the all the street artists and vendors. Dean had been an expert at using the tube to get around, and had taken the group to some of the best sights. Neville had been utterly enchanted with every park they passed, but had been enraptured by the sight of the London Eye. For a boy who had been scared hovering two feet from the ground on a broom, Neville had surprisingly wanted to ride the attraction. When pressed on the situation Neville admitted he didn't mind heights, he was fine in the tower after all, it's just didn't feel safe trusting a thin stick of wood to keep him off the ground.

"-It's just so flimsy looking, and my gran can tell you, I ain't that skinny. Floating on that broom scared me so badly," Neville explained.

"You were barely two feet from the ground," Seamus pointed out.

Neville gave the Irish boy a stubborn look, "My Uncle Algie told me that the only wood I should trust between my legs is the one I'm born with and sometimes even that one acts funny."

That shut Seamus up. How could you argue wisdom like that?

After that, the four boys continued having fun and joking around. Only after they had left a poor street vendor sweating after feeding four hungry growing boys, did they remember they had gone to London for a purpose. When they finally got around to Harry's passport photo, Dean had to reassure Harry by telling him that everyone looks terrible in their photo. How could they not when you weren't allowed to smile?

"I'm just saying some vindictive witch or wizard must have cursed the photo taking process. You can enter looking all primped and proper but as soon as that camera goes your hairs a mess, your complexion off, and you look about two levels dumber than you started. That's not natural! Some evil magic must be at work there."

Just before the dinner hour, after the group expended most of their energy and money, Harry spotted something that caught his attention. Through the window of an electronics store Harry could see a group of people watching several televisions that were broadcasting an American football game. Curious, Harry wandered into the shop to take a closer look.

He never watched an actual American football game because Uncle Vernon would rag on about how the Americans had taken the honourable name of football and applied it to their hybrid rubbish. How no self-respecting Brit would watch a game where pansies wore pads and threw a rugby ball around. He would rant about points, helmets, and structure before finishing the rant with his favourite line "_The only sport worse than American Football is Baseball!"_

Harry couldn't share his opinion since he knew nothing of the sport beyond the basics: One team is on offense, one team on defense, throw the ball, ball in the end zone equals points. Beyond that Harry hadn't cared much, but now that he knew his brother played the sport, Harry decided it was time to make a more invested interest. Putting an effort into understanding his brother's hobbies would only help him in the future when they met. It would show that he was willing to try and wanted to make a relationship between them work. Harry remembered hearing a quote that once said that in order to make dreams become a reality it took dedication, determination, self-discipline, and effort. Harry was going to live by that.

Walking up to the telly, Harry tried to understand what was happening. What he could tell was that it was at the end of the game as the clock read 10 seconds, the blue team was winning with 33 points, while the white team only had 29 points. The crowd was screaming as the white team had the ball, but Harry didn't see them winning. With 10 seconds left it was impossible for the white team to get the ball into the end zone five times to get enough points to win. Wondering why the fans around him looked so anxious, Harry decided to keep watching.

The white team lined up, with the man in the middle holding the ball. The quarterback yelled 'Hut' he grabbed the ball between the middle guys' legs and took a step back. He brought his arm up and threw the ball to the other white player in the end zone but the ball touched the white guy's fingers and went out. No points and eight seconds left and the clock stopped. Harry wondered about that. In footy the clock didn't stop.

The white team huddled together, the QB said something they clapped their hands and went to line up again. Harry thought they looked exactly the same as the last time which didn't make sense since they failed to get a point last time. Why didn't they change formation or something? Watching closing the QB got the ball, took a step back, and threw it in a quick pass but the receiver fumbled it in his hands again and it hit the ground. The clock stopped on six seconds. The man beside Harry clenched his fists and started muttering under his breath "Come on! You can catch for days in practice but when you need just one touchdown you drop the ball? What is this?" He muttered to himself.

Harry looked around to see the other people also talking to themselves or saying derogatory comments to the guy who dropped the ball. They all seemed upset or frustrated with him. Again Harry didn't understand why. What did it matter if he dropped the ball? Even if he caught it there was no way he could run in and out of the end zone enough times to beat the blue team. Feeling someone behind him, Harry turned to see that his three dorm-mates had joined the group and were watching the screen. Seamus and Dean seemed to know what was happening but Neville looked just as confused as him.

The announcer made a comment about running the ball and Harry was back to watching the white team line up again. The ball went to the QB, he stepped back, and suddenly Harry saw something amazing. The white players that were lined up with the middle guy pushed and created a hole in front of the QB, the QB held the ball off to the side and a white player came running up from behind him and grabbed the ball to run it through the hole and straight to the end zone just as the clock ran out. "Touchdown!" Seamus yelled excitedly as the people around Harry cheered and to Harry's amazement the score changed to 35-33, the white team won, and Harry found his arms in the arm and his voice cheering with the rest of the crowd, all caught in in the celebratory atmosphere. Watching the score change he felt a wave of relief go through him which surprised him more since he didn't even realize he was anxious for the white team to win as well.

Thinking about it, Harry didn't think he was actually anxious, but more caught up in the crowd, feeling their joy at the win. It made him feel something… something warm and cozy inside as she watched the clock run out and the white team celebrate. It was a new feeling since Harry never though himself as a sports fan before, but he could see why people paid money to go see athletes play. If this is how he felt in a small crowd, he couldn't imagine the feelings he would get if he watched his team play and win in a stadium full of fans.

He really needed to learn more about this sport. Setting his face into one full of determination, Harry turned to his Dean and Seamus and asked them seriously, "Can you teach me this sport?"

Seamus laughed a little and shook his head. "Sorry mate, but I don't know much about it meself."

"I don't either, just the basic stuff," Dean admitted.

The man beside Harry, who had been muttering to himself, interrupted them. "Son, if you want to learn there are plenty of ways. Your P.E teacher should know the rules, or watching a few games on the telly will get you familiar, but if you want to know absolutely everything-" Harry nodded his head eagerly,"- than I suggest you go to a bookstore and buy yourself a guide book. They are fairly cheap and easy to read."

Harry profusely thanked the man before dragging his friends from the electronics store and back into the street to search for a bookstore, "One last stop and then we can go get dinner, okay guys?"

No one objected and Harry carried out his mission.

Clutching the American Football Guide to his chest, Harry snuck back into The Leaky Cauldron and was surprised to see the whole Weasley family and Hermione taking up the tables in the middle. Mrs. Weasley looked worried, while Percy and Ron looked upset about something. Hermione looked angry, and the twins seemed positively ecstatic about something.

As careful as they could, the four boys snuck up the stairs under the cloak but stopped short when they saw Ginny waiting outside Harry's door. That would be a problem. Backing away slowly, the four ducked into the bathroom to talk.

"What do we do?" Harry asked.

Dean frowned as he thought deeply while Seamus shrugged his shoulders. Surprisingly it was Neville that had an idea. "How 'bout we walk in from the alley and pretend we were there the whole time?"

"Neville you genius of a man, you!" Seamus whispered as he grabbed Neville's face and planted a big sloppy kiss on the pudgy boy's cheek. "Where ever would be without you?"

"Seamus get off me!" Neville hissed and he pushed the friendly Irish boy away.

Harry laughed at the interaction before tossing the cloak over them again and sneaking out.

When they re-entered the pub, making it look like they had been on the magical side, Mrs. Weasley rushed him and grabbed him up in a bone-crushing hug. "Harry!" She cried. "Oh we looked all over for you but we couldn't find you? Where were you? Not in Knockturn Alley I hope," She said as she pulled away from him and wagged a threatening finger in his face.

"Of course not Mrs. Weasley," Harry tried to placate the woman. Before he could utter more reassurances, Harry was captured in a hug while someone else pounded him on the back.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione cried.

"Hey guys, I didn't know you were coming," Harry said as he smiled weakly. How was he going to explain everything that happened since his birthday?

Harry decided the simplest thing to do was not tell them a thing. It would be less of a headache that way.

o.O.o

September first rolled around and after having endured Molly Weasley's very watchful eye, Harry couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. The morning was chaotic as all the Weasley children fussed and fumbled with their luggage, while Hermione lectured a harassed Ron about proper packing the night before. Harry watched it all as he sat on top of his trunk, keeping Hedwig safe next to him. When everyone was finally ready, Mr. Weasley opened the doors and revealed some Ministry cars waiting to take them to the station. Harry didn't question it, he was just happy to have a way to Kings Cross.

The car ride was fun but soon enough they were on platform 9 and ¾'s. Harry looked around and spotted Dean and Seamus fast enough and made his way over to thank Mrs. Thomas for all her help over the summer, and to thank Mrs. Finnigan for letting Seamus visit so often. All bags and trunks were loaded, goodbyes were said, and as Mr. Weasley tried pulling Harry away Mrs. Finnigan stepped in and glared at the man. "You'll make him miss the train! Try to be responsible!" She scolded. Harry was ushered on the train and as it pulled away he was pulled into a compartment with Dean, Seamus, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

"I can't believe we're going back already!" Hermione cheered. "I read all the course books of course and I can't wait to start classes. I was looking at my Runes textbook and the material seems so interesting Did you know that you can use Runes in places of spells? For example a rune for light could be connected to a torch and when touched with a wand it will light the torch and keep it burning for as long as you like?"

"Hermione!" Ron groaned. "We just got on the bloody train, how can you be so excited for classes already?"

"Honestly Ronald, just because you don't want to listen to fascinating things about Runes doesn't mean the others don't, right Harry? You want to hear more about them right?" Hermione focused her attention on him. Harry froze in her intense stare. Honestly, he didn't care. He didn't take the class so he didn't see why he should be interested, but he didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings either.

"Uh…"

"Hermione, you're the only one in our year from Gryffindor that took that class. No one cares about it," Seamus announced.

Hermione looked affronted at his words. "Seamus! I can't be the only one. Dean did you take Runes?" Dean shook his head and Hermione let out a sigh. "But it's such an interesting subject. I'm sure that if you all just read a little about the class then you would be as eager as I am to take it."

Harry decided to step in before they were subjected to an entire train ride about Runes. "Hermione, vacation barely just ended, none of us have our heads in the right place. Give us some time to switch back to school mode and I'm sure Runes will seem more interesting to us then." Harry was going for pleadingly political.

Hermione sighed again but sat back and gave up on her quest. "I suppose. Anyways Harry, how was your summer? We didn't have much of a chance to talk."

Harry smiled. "It was good. I learned loads of stuff about the wizarding world and stuff."

Hermione gave him a warm smile. "That's good. I was so worried when I heard that you blew up your aunt, but I guess I should have known you would be fine. Ron wrote to me saying you never responded to his letter and this his mother was worried so we all showed up, but you weren't there and that just made Molly worry more… how could you be so irresponsible?"

"Hermione would you lay off the guy? If I got to spend my summer in Diagon Alley I would forget to write too. I mean think of all the stores you could go to and how much time he got to admire the new Firebolt. I wish I could get one, it would be so cool." Ron started wandering into his own fantasies.

"Right…" Harry stared between his two best friends and saw another fight coming on. Thinking quickly, Harry scooted closer to Dean. "So did you guys read that book about American Football? I'm curious as to why the Canadian League has a different amount of Downs compared to the American League."

Seamus grinned and leaned forward. "I read that too but I didn't care once I got to the chapter about penalties. Horse collars, head tackles, holding… man you can foul the other team in so many ways."

"I can see the reason for all the protective gear…" Neville added. The four boys all nodded in agreement while Ron and his sister gave them bewildered looks.

"Whatcha goin' on 'bout?" Ron asked with a small bit of annoyance in his voice.

Seamus took the lead and placed a hand on the ginger's shoulder. "A noble sport, born to a breed of men more fierce and barmy than you can imagine."

"A sport where agility, strategy, and skill is compared for 60 minutes under the building pressure of the audience," Dean supported.

"A true challenge of one's manhood," Neville added, looking solemn at the announcement.

Harry finished it off. "It's played on a battlefield of 100 pains."

Hermione huffed and sat back with her arms crossed. "It's just a silly muggle sport."

Harry and his brothers in arms gasped at her statement, completely scandalized. How dare she! They didn't say Runes was a silly wizard class did they?

"It's okay lads!" Seamus cried. "They don't have a sports section in the library, she wouldn't know the blasphemy she has so ignorantly uttered today."

As one, the four sent Hermione pitying looks. If only she knew… but she didn't so for now they were going to send her hurt looks and carry on their conversation. She would learn in time.

* * *

**Fun Football Fact:**

In 1910, a football team was penalized 15 yards for an incomplete forward pass.


End file.
